With Time My Heart Grew Fonder
by le stylo
Summary: A restless demon enters her prince's chamber with a deadly intention... But fails and is hit by a realization... (inspired bty a fanart)


Disclaimers: I don't own Disgaea a couple of geniuses do from Atlus. It'd take me several life times  
to think of something like this and several more to construct it. I'm just borrowing the characters  
to get rid of boredom.  
  
With Time My Heart Grew Fonder

In the netherworld, within the castle walls of a certain castle things were conspicuously quiet and uncharacteristically peaceful.  
All gossips had died down, smug strutting demons were silenced, and the castle was held in the tight grip of slumber. As silent as everything was, a demon lay restless in bed. She did not try to find a comfortable position for she had been trying in vain for many hours back. She put her hands behind her head so it lay upon her palms, eyes boring into the ceiling.  
Lazily she rolled off of bed, and slowly picked herself up from the floor. Her eyes were no longer tired, thanks to the collision, but her body-  
As tired as it was, had to be dragged so she walked with a limp to her vanity, then lit the candles upon it. She studied herself in the mirror, eyes wide, especially the pupils straining to absorb what little light the candles produced, one of her fangs poked out from the right corner of her mouth making her look a bit starved, her pink hair, purple in the darkness just a bit below her shoulders were frizzy and in messy disarray.  
With a sigh she picked up her brush, straightening it.  
She jumped, and with quick reflex her eyes suspiciously goggled her door, startled by the gong-like ring of the grandfather clock announcing an hour's end as one began anew.  
In one swift movement, she made it to her door. She didn't bother to change, nor put her hair up the way it usually is. She stalked within the deep darkness, swiftly, silently through the dormant castle. The only sound that would be heard, if anyone else had been up would be the eerie rapping of the grandfather clock, like the even beats of a pulsating heart, or perhaps the fluttering of the short tail of the demon's gown, imitating the howl of winter winds.  
She knew where she was headed. She knew why. Though she didn't understand why she'd try, when it seems more likely futile... Once she reached her destination, she congratulated herself on how easy, for why not, when she was-is considered the current ruler's faithful vassal. Then, another thought wore down her victory, the darn kid just made it too easy. You could tell he was the lord by just starring at his door! Then she supposed it was only because he was big headed, and like a lower class demon wanted to be tough, macho. She had to agree, he is strong for his age, demon-wise, but not really macho, he's a bit scrawny.  
In the chamber a few candles were lit, since the young prince slept in a coffin, it wouldn't hinder his sleep. She looked him over, a satisfied expression on her face.  
  
'So much has happened in your quest to be overlord... prince.'  
_  
_A contemplative expression appeared on her face, recalling their adventures from his awakening to meeting Earth's defenders. Now they were planning on taking on Celestia. This was a big step, and the young demon had no fear, confident as he is with his abilities, with pride bigger than the whole netherworld, and no intention of cowering with tail between legs. The vassal's mind roamed on to their little angel companion. Would she aid them, go against her fellow angels? Would she join the angels, or perhaps be neutral? IF she can stay neutral at all... This demon could easily read the angel. But even so, this situation proved to be difficult to side on. The angel would "do the right thing" but what is the right thing? The right thing would be something aiding in a person's cause, and the angel, if her cause were to be love, what would lead to love? She shook her head, then glanced back at the sleeping prince. From the angelic look he wears when asleep, you couldn't have guessed he had such a foul mouth! This made her smile, and the way he slept on his side.... made her feel nostalgic. She felt a memory slide show coming on in her head. Her hands that were behind her back began to shake, and at the safe time feel clammy. She pointed a weapon, a dagger, at him, the blade so close to his cheek. Then she held her breath, lifted the apparatus then squeezed her eyes shut as she plunged it downwards.  
A gasp escaped the female demon, she ended up throwing the blade onto the ground, in shock, hearing the door creak open and a soft voice utter her name, so much like a child.  
  
"Et....na...?" 

Etna turned to face the voice, she already knew whom it came from. A lump the size of a brick, and as thick and rugged formed in her throat. She grew very uneasy while gazing at the angel. The angel wore a blue silk night gown, the blue the same shade on her original outfit and she looked out of it. Her hair looked more in disarray than the demon's were, crumpled together in the ends, frizzy with three long noticeable strands of hair shooting upwards. Her usually perky eyes were only half opened, or a little less since there her bottom lids were stretched a bit upwards , indicating she hadn't slept well. This look made her seem cranky. Still, Etna had to admit she still looks beautiful, and with her wings she can still be called quite the "ornament." Tears began to well in the trainee's eyes and cascade like a waterfall, soon sniffles and sobs escaped her.  
  
"Flonne..."

"I just had an awful dream.... about Laharl!" she paused between sniffles, "So I rushed here... not only because of my dream but also my intuition told me something was wrong..."  
  
She paused, stepping towards the vassal. The angel barely said anymore, only whimpers escaped from her throat. Etna approached her and placed her hands gently on Flonne's shoulders.  
  
"There. There" She soothed patting her shoulders.

'Damn her intuition!'  
  
Much to her surprise, she received a bone-crushing embrace.  
  
"You can let go now," Etna said partially embarrassed, partially annoyed.  
  
The angel obeyed but she didn't immediately. While Flonne was loosening her grip, slowly letting go of Etna, the demon glanced at the knife hidden in the shadow of the coffin.  
  
"What were you doing here anyway?"  
  
"I... Uhh.... I was just checking up on the prince."  
  
The angel chuckled in good humor, some of the perkiness returning to here eyes.  
  
"May I?"  
  
"You seem very tired still," Etna observed, and she was right, the angel trainee's eyes were twitching, itching to close up.  
  
She grumbled, as if to say it was unfair. Then she gave the vassal another smile, then nodded in understanding. For what could be done? The mischievous demon _is_ Laharl's vassal. It _is_ her job to serve him, and protect him.  
  
"I'll be going then..."  
  
Once the white feathered female left, the pink haired demon turned to face her prince once more.  
  
"I couldn't do it..."  
  
The words were choked out. Her eyes began to moisten.  
  
"Just like in my dreams, or perhaps a memory from long ago..."  
  
She became pensive, thinking, piecing together a moment when something like this happened.  
_  
_A young demon grumbled, unable to sleep, she felt angry and envious. Plus the thunder just wouldn't stop! She hopped out of bed, dug under it, then decided to roam the halls for she could not sleep. As she walked through the silent halls, her sleep wear dragged along. It was just a shirt, one too big for her to wear. She yawned in the hallways and stretched. If one were to look at her, that individual would nod his or her head knowingly, able to tell what type of person the young one would grow into, sultry, sly with an attractive body and lazy.  
She decided to check on a room she played in. At least when it was empty. She knew it was occupied now, and it made her angry because it was her own "secret base." Once she arrived her anger heightened. The room was now occupied by an infant, cradle and all sorts of toys. Some toys were odd, unknown to her, actually **_weapons_** were the only toys she knew. Her eyes burned with hatred as they landed on the vulnerable child, asleep on his side, thumb in his mouth unconsciously sucking on it. She saw him as a threat. Exotic. A tainted demon. Tainted with a a different kind of blood. Disgusting human blood. Yet, he was valued, and next in line to the throne of the current overlord. She saw nothing special in him though. Just an obstacle.  
Wordlessly, soundlessly, the female demon pulled up her sleeves up. She revealed her little hands, one wrapped tightly onto a weapon. She raised the weapon. Thunder struck, making the blade glint maliciously in its light. Just then, she heard steps bounding down the hallways. The doors burst open and an anguished cry pierced the night.  
  
"LAHARL!"  
  
A muffled thud sounded as the weapon fell. The night sky lit up again, illuminating the room for just a second. But at that second, the young demon had given the woman an empty look, as if she was just an empty shell. All of her emotions were put into her weapon. She felt drained. That woman-her appearance the young one probably won't remember but that anguished cry...  
Etna gasped, bewildered.  
  
'What was that just now? That woman.... Laharl... just like today-'  
  
The vassal compared the scenes. They were so similar, except it was thundering in one, and the woman, unlike Flonne was more alert. The two were similar, she had to admit. The two didn't look alike. She couldn't really recall the woman's face, but she knew this for a fact. Etna continued her viewing of the young prince. Like a bolt, it struck her. She had figured out what made Laharl so 'special.' Suddenly, she felt nervous, and her heart beat quickened and slowed at the same time. She also felt feverish.  
  
"This feeling..."  
  
The female shook her head side to side trying to get rid of the thought. It frightened her that she was feeling an emotion she had felt for only one person. She didn't want to pass it on. Never. The emotion grew stronger as she continued to stare. No matter how bad she wanted to look away, she just couldn't as if mesmerized.  
  
"It looks as if, I've grown..." She paused, thinking of a word.  
  
Infatuated? No... Like? Too inadequate. Love? She wouldn't dare.  
  
"Fond of you." She finished like it was such a foreign word.  
  
"I've hung out with you _too_ long for my own good,"  
  
A smile hung on her face, both fangs visible. Then a wistful one replaced it.  
  
"I feel you won't be able to return it-these feelings... For your eyes belong only to _her_"  
  
She turned and made her way to the door. A deep sigh escaped her lips, then she turned her head.  
  
"Good luck, prince."  
  
A/N: Just a little piece I wrote for fun. An Etna/Laharl one-sided (one shot) story. Yay! For some reason I always thought she had this grudge against Laharl, and she did try to kill him in the beginning. I don't think bringing the whole torture chamber with him was a way of waking anyone up. Yes it's one-sided... but it's still Etna/Laharl right? Maybe I'll make a consensual one, if I can think of something. Oh and the cradle thing... I just imagine that he had one... maybe because of his mom? And what's the special thing about Laharl....? I'm sure everyone has an idea. Well... R/R!  
  
(Oh and I apologize for the insanely cheesy title!)


End file.
